


we'll be okay in the end

by KASE1248



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racism, Keith (Voltron) has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Lance (Voltron) Has Panic Attacks, M/M, Minor Keith/Lance/Shiro (Voltron), Never Beta Read, Not Beta Read, Referenced Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KASE1248/pseuds/KASE1248
Summary: “Hunk told me,” Shiro brings it up carefully.Keith looks up at him, a tint of confusion on his features.  “Told you what?”“What happened to you guys last year.”





	we'll be okay in the end

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [how much is that doggy (and cute boy) in the window](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030995) by [Summer_Pond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Pond/pseuds/Summer_Pond). 



> This was inspired by a small exchange in a short Shklance fanfic I read recently, when I was indulging my OT3 [ _see above_ ].
> 
> I fell in love with Keith/Lance in way I haven't felt since my Sterek days (we don't talk about those) and my newest kink is Established Klance being all soft and protective with each other on top of the fun, bantering, competitive relationship they have. And Keith/Lance/Shiro is probably the only true OT3 I have currently. This doesn't feature Shklance explicitly, more just vaguely hinted at between the lines, but the Klance is obvious, if a little glossed over.
> 
> Rated T for language.

“So you guys are…” Shiro starts and he hates how awkward he sounds.

Keith’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. “Together, yes.” Shiro doesn’t miss the way the atmosphere cools with tension. “Why, you got a problem with that?”

Keith likes Shiro, probably more than he should, but if he turns out to be even remotely unaccepting, Keith won’t hesitate to remove him from their lives, rather than subject himself or Lance to that kind of negativity again.

Lance still has nightmares. Keith still has a scar.

“Oh, no,” the man in question shakes his head hurriedly. “Not at all. I just… I mean, I’m gay myself, so…”

He’s not sure what he’s trying to say but Keith seems to understand through his babble anyway. He appraises Shiro momentarily before his posture, stiffened in case of a threat, relaxes slowly as he returns to his shelving duties. He glances over his shoulder to make sure Lance hasn’t heard their exchange.

“Sorry,” he says to Shiro, when he’s sure they’re safe. “It’s just, we’ve had trouble before.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro smiles warmly. “I’ve experienced that kind of hate too. I understand.”

But Keith knows he doesn’t yet. Not really.

* * *

“When I asked them,” Shiro scratches at his metal arm, “it felt like I offended them.”

“Asked them what?” Hunk asks.

“If they were together.”

Hunk looks at Shiro with an odd tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a second before. In the background, Pidge stiffens but doesn’t stop messing with their wires.

“Hunk,” Shiro breaks the sudden heavy silence, “did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Hunk shakes away the tension at his words, “no, Shiro, it wasn’t you. It’s just a bit of a… touchy area. After what happened last year.”

“Last year?” Shiro echoes.

Hunk sighs and glances over his shoulder at Pidge, who’s resolutely not looking up from their project. “Shiro, why don’t you sit down for a moment?”

And Hunk tells him what happened a year ago. How Keith had picked Lance up from his job at some café; only to be followed home by one of the customers, who’d shouted increasingly vulgar abuse at them. How Lance had kept it together until the racist slurs came out. How Keith’s protective nature had caused him to anger easily, and turn to challenge their abuser. How they hadn’t seen the knife until too late.

Shiro lets out an emotional sound but Hunk isn’t finished yet.

He talks about how Keith had almost died from internal injuries after the knife clipped more than one major organ. How Lance had fought with doctors at the hospital, because if it hadn’t been enough to be stabbed in an act of homophobia, Lance hadn’t been considered Keith’s family because he was a boyfriend. How the attacker had never been caught.

How two weeks can feel like two years, when you’re sitting at the bedside of your lover. How anxiety can cause panic attacks and nightmares and your own short admission to the hospital because you passed out and gave yourself a concussion. How fear turns to anger and you push everyone away, almost to the point of losing the most important person in your life. How physiotherapy makes you feel weak when you just want to feel strong. How one simple action destabilizes your entire life and you can’t seem to fix it, no matter what.

How Keith has chronic pain. How Lance is back on anti-depressants. How they had moved to the inner city to be closer to their friends (or because they had felt scared where they lived before). How, after a year, they still struggle with being affectionate in public, just in case.

How far they’ve come.

* * *

“Hunk told me,” Shiro brings it up carefully.

Keith looks up at him, a tint of confusion on his features. “Told you what?”

“What happened to you guys last year.”

Keith’s sharp eyes dart to his boyfriend, who’s stiffened at the words. Under the table, their hands meet and Lance clutches onto Keith like a boat to an anchor in a rough sea.

It used to be a single mention of the attack would cause Keith to shut down and send Lance into a spiral of panic, but they’re better these days. They’re calmer, more in control of their emotions, have a few months of therapy under their belts.

But it’s still the scariest experience of their lives: they still have nightmares and bad days and pain from an injury long healed. Lance still panics when Keith is late home and Keith still panics when Lance is working the shop alone. It’ll be a long time before they’ll truly be okay about what happened.

“And?” Keith remembers they’re in a conversation with Shiro.

“Well, I just wanted to say… I understand why you were on edge when I asked about you and Lance before. That was a terrible thing for you to go through, both of you. I’m so–”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Lance interrupts harshly; he’s hanging onto Keith’s hand for dear life. “Sorry doesn’t change what happened.” He softens after a moment. “And you weren’t even there; so you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“I’m just sorry that happened to you,” Shiro finishes gently.

Lance’s blue eyes glitter with tears for a moment before he blinks them back; Shiro understands better why Keith had been so concerned with Lance overhearing their previous conversation. He knows Lance is a very emotionally expressive person; but he hadn’t considered before how negative emotions and memories affect him.

Keith, on the other-hand, is harder to read. It takes someone experienced with the man to notice the slight crease of his brow, the paler tone to his skin, the turmoil of gratitude and wariness in his eyes. He’s thankful for Shiro’s words but in the same thought, he’s also waiting for the other man to yell “syke” and lunge across the table.

“If you ever need someone to talk to,” he offers them both in equal measure, “I’m here.”

Keith nods, gratitude winning out; under the table, Lance entwines his fingers with those of Shiro’s prosthetic.

* * *

Keith keeps checking his watch. He knows they’ve only got about half an hour of shopping left to do but Lance is minding the store on his own right now and that always twists his stomach into ugly knots.

It seems like a baseless fear, since Lance has never had any issue minding the store on his own before now, but before the store, there was the café and Keith will never forget how his boyfriend’s last shift at that place ended.

Shiro’s at the other end of the aisle, comparing the prices on wine bottles.

Shiro.

Shiro has been so important these last few weeks. He doesn’t know that the anniversary of the stabbing is coming up, but it’s been weighing heavily on Keith’s mind. Perhaps it’s why he’s particularly antsy about leaving Lance alone.

But Shiro has been his rock. Their rock. He’s always there to help out: another friendly ear for Lance to annoy, a solid presence to keep Keith company, a soft shoulder during the bad days. He helps out at the shop, keeps Lance company during his solo shifts, goes along with Keith on their weekly grocery shopping days or monthly bills-inventory-resupply-and-other-important-shit days.

There’s something growing between them, soft and gentle and undefined for now. The kind of thing that gives warmth to their expressions when they look at each other, that spreads blush across cheeks with gentle words, that makes Lance feel safe enough to fall asleep during movie night, with his head in Keith’s lap, and his feet in Shiro’s.

That’s the important part. Keith’s feelings about Shiro mean nothing if Lance doesn’t feel the same way.

“You okay there?” Shiro’s smiling at him warmly when he breaks out of his reverie.

“Uh, yeah, just thinking,” he shrugs gently.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” he responds absently; when Shiro opens his mouth to speak, he quickly amends his wording: “Not _yet_.”

Not until he’s spoken to Lance.

Speak of the devil – or would that be the dream? – Keith’s phone lights up in his pocket and he drags it out to see Lance is calling him. Immediately he’s reminded of the knots twisting his stomach; even with the knowledge that Lance calls him all the time, just to tell him how much he loves him.

How did he deserve someone like Lance, honestly?

“Hey, Lance, what’s up?” he keeps his tone breezy but alarm bells ring in his head, in his stomach, in his heart, when Lance doesn’t immediately answer. “Lance?”

“Keith,” his voice is soft in Keith’s ear. Too soft.

“Why are you whispering? Lance, is everything okay?”

There’s a shuffling sound, a sniffle. “Keith, he’s here,” Lance sounds increasingly wheezy, like he’s fighting to keep a panic attack at bay.

“Who’s there? Lance?” Keith glances at Shiro, who looks as worried as he feels.

“It’s him,” Lance whispers, and there’s the tiniest hiccup of a sob at the end of that sentence. “He’s here.”

“Lance,” Keith’s voice is a lot stronger than he feels, “talk to me, what’s going on?”

“I’m in the storage room, he didn’t see me, but I can hear him out there,” Lance is rambling now, “he doesn’t know I’m here–”

“Lance–”

“–unless he does, unless he saw me before I hid in the storage room, maybe he’s just toying with me, playing some kind of sick game–”

“–Lance–”

“–oh, God, I think he heard me!”

“Lance!”

The line goes dead. Did Lance hang up because he’d been _scared_ of being found or did he hang up because he _had_ been found?

“Fucking dammit,” Keith swears, a lot more heated and angry than he means to. He abandons the full shopping cart in the middle of the store and bolts for the exit.

He completely forgets that Shiro’s with him until they’re both sliding into the car. Once again, Keith remembers how important the man has been to them: here he is, following Keith to go help Lance, without question or comment or even knowing what’s going on.

Allowing himself a moment of weakness, Keith reaches across blindly to catch Shiro’s hand, using the connection to ground himself. He breathes for a moment, and then remembers what he’s supposed to be doing.

All the way back to the shop, Keith refuses to allow himself to think about who’s in the building with Lance, even though he has a very good idea, based on the phone call. He can’t afford to let himself stumble or retreat, not when Lance needs him. His boyfriend will always overrule any fear or hesitation Keith feels, no matter what.

The store looks empty when they pull up outside. Keith doesn’t even switch the engine off, just stumbles out of the car and races inside, his thoughts only on Lance. Shiro will deal with all that other stuff.

He makes it to the counter before he registers another presence in the shop.

The sound of footsteps, the stale smell of cigarette smoke, the feel of eyes boring into the back of his head. Keith whirls around to face the threat.

And his stomach plummets through the ground.

_It’s him. It’s really him._

Of all the people to walk into their store, this face was not one Keith ever expected – or wanted – to ever see again. And yet, here he is, staring Keith down, with the same look in his eyes he’d had the last time they’d met.

He’s imagined this moment a thousand times before, dreamed about what he would do if he ever met this man again. The kind pain he would cause him, if only to match what he and Lance had suffered through in the last year.

But fantasy is much easier to manipulate than reality.

Instead of marching up to him and punching him, instead of slamming his head into the shelves, instead of calling the police; instead of doing _anything_ , Keith finds himself thrown back to that night in the alley. The foul language tumbling from the man’s lips, the flare of heat in his jaw after a heavy punch, the glint of a blade in the dim streetlights…

A sharp pain in his side like he’s been stabbed all over again.

A hand lands on his attacker’s shoulder, spinning him away from Keith [ _he doesn’t remember this part_ ] and his face connects with a metal fist. The flashback comes to an abrupt halt and he’s pulled back to the present, where Shiro has punched this guy, with his _prosthetic_ arm no less, based only on Keith’s reaction to his presence.

Everything is slow for a moment, as he watches the body of his attacker fall unconscious; he’s shaken out of his freeze by the sound of him crashing to the ground.

Whirling around on the spot, he stumbles away from the scene and heads for the storage room, where Lance had said he’d retreated to.

His boyfriend is curled up in the corner of the room, trying to talk himself out of a panic attack, it seems. When Keith crashes through the door, he jumps into the air and lets a panicked sound but the moment he recognizes Keith, he scrambles to his feet and launches himself at the other.

Keith catches him easily and wraps him up into a tight hug. Lance holds him back just as tightly.

“Thank God you’re here,” Lance breathes. “Are you okay, he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Am I okay?” Keith lets out a weak laugh. “You’re the one about to have a panic attack.”

“Where is he?” Lance asks shakily, his eyes on the open door behind Keith.

“Shiro has him. The cops have probably been called too. We’re okay now.”

Lance melts against him, the tension rushing out. He clings to Keith, burying his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I feel so stupid,” he mumbles. “Taking those self-defence classes for this exact situation, only to freeze up like an idiot when I do see him.”

“Hey,” Keith pulls back from the hug so he can look Lance in the eyes, “if you’re an idiot for freezing up, then so am I, because I did too; but you’d never let me think that about myself, so don’t go thinking it about you, okay?”

Lance nods but doesn’t say anything because he knows he’ll probably start crying or even hyperventilating, and that’s the last thing he wants to do right now. He knows that the panic attack isn’t over, that it’ll sit in his throat, that he’ll wind up having it later anyway, but he’d rather wait until he’s home with Keith, surrounded by things that make him feel safe.

“Besides,” Keith continues, “I’m glad you decided to stay in here, rather than confronting him. I don’t want to find out what it’s like to be on the other side of the blade.”

Lance doesn’t want to find out what it’s like to be stabbed either.

There’s a soft knock at the door of the store room, startling them both.

“Hey,” Shiro steps into the room, “the cops are here. They wanna talk to you, is that okay?”

Keith waits until Lance nods the affirmative. “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll be right there.”

They take a minute to compose themselves. Lance is still fighting to keep his panic attack at bay, his legs are shaky and he relies on Keith to keep him upright. Keith’s flashback lingers at the edge of his vision, and his stomach twists with the faint feeling of nausea at the thought of going back out there and seeing his attacker, even if he’s in cuffs.

Their hands are woven together tightly between them.

* * *

Lance has his panic attack later that night.

After they’ve talked to the police, after they’ve shut the shop up early, after they’d said goodbye to Shiro, after they’ve gone home. He holds it together during the walk home, while they get changed out of their work clothes, right up until his shaky grip slips from his cup of cocoa and shatters it all over the kitchen floor.

He’s led to the sofa by gentle hands, where he curls up and clings to his boyfriend, burying his face into his shirt. He alternates between sobbing out all his fear and stress and frustration; and hyperventilating his panic and anxiety; and some heart-wrenching combination of both.

It’s a level of panic attack he hasn’t had since those two weeks he spent in the hospital.

Keith rocks him through it, holds his hand, speaks gentle words and soothing songs, and Lance fights to control his breathing, but his crying is making it hard. Keith starts feeling useless when he realizes he can’t calm his boyfriend down this time; until Lance draws in a painful breath and tells him what he wants, what he needs.

Ten minutes later, Shiro is knocking at the door.

Shiro helps Lance feel safe. He tries not to feel proud of that, given the current situation.

Twenty minutes later, Lance is finally breathing properly again and his sobs have finally dried up. He clings to Shiro while Keith gently cleans up his face and kisses his stray tears away.

Thirty minutes later, Lance curls up on Shiro’s lap and falls asleep, one hand stretched out to interlock with Keith’s, while Shiro’s prosthetic is a grounding weight around his shoulders.

Two hours later, he wakes up just long enough for Keith to move him to the bedroom. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s drifting off again, a few mumbles of his boyfriend’s name slipping from his lips. Keith clambers onto the bed next to him, curling protectively around his drained lover.

Shiro follows just long enough to see the two men settling down to hopefully sleep peacefully, and then takes that as his cue to leave.

“Shiro,” Keith’s drowsy voice stops him in the doorway. He turns to look at the boy in question, who’s holding out a hand towards him. “Stay. Please.”

Shiro helps Keith feel safe too.

He climbs into the bed on the other side of Lance, trying not to read too much into the situation. Lance burrows into the bed between them, letting out a sleepy sound, and Keith tucks in closer around him. Shiro drapes his human arm across the two of them and pulls them in as close as dares, as close as he can; but not quite as close as he wants to.

Maybe they help him feel safe too.

Together, all three of them fall into a dreamless sleep, a tangle of limbs and leather and blankets. Keith and Lance instinctively link hands between them.

Today had been a bad day.

But it’s the nights like these, where they’ll sleep steadily through until morning, that make up for them.

They’ll all be okay in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Season 8 of Voltron a few weeks ago and cried my heart out, but before that, I haven't watched Voltron properly in maybe a year? So, yeah, my characterization is probably terrible and wrong; I've probably fallen into a bunch of outdated Klance tropes; there are probably a million things wrong with the plot; my tenses are probably all kinds of messed up; but I'm trying to get back into writing generally, and fanfictions seem to make me productive so deal with it, I guess?
> 
> I promise to come back with more stuff that's written way better, like magic-based Voltron AUs and mythology-based AUs and all that stuff, so if you like that kind of thing, hopefully you'll see it around here at some point.
> 
> (Forewarning that I like depicting OCs in my fanfics, so there'll probably be some Voltron AUs with an OC, but I won't bore you with those details.)
> 
> Thanks for reading my trash-pile of Established Klance with a smidge of Shklance, responses are always appreciated.
> 
> (Does this mean the next time I go thru the Shklance tag, I'm gonna find my own work? Ew.)


End file.
